


First to the Finish

by noveltea



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-20
Updated: 2010-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-06 12:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/pseuds/noveltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always-a-girl!Clark. Written as a response to LJ community 'genderbenderfic' prompt: girl!Clark/Oliver, "who's the better superhero?" Teamwork: a joint action by 2 or more people or a group, in which each person subordinates his or her individual interests and opinions to the unity and efficiency of the group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First to the Finish

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and ideas associated with Smallville belong to their respective creators.

_prompt;_  
Smallville, girl!Clark/Oliver, Who's the better superhero?

The Kent farm looked unchanged from how she remembered it growing up, just as she liked it. It wasn't about living in the past for Clark, but keeping something familiar, something that she loved, preserved for as long as she could sustain it. She hoped that that would be a long time.

Sometimes it felt like she didn't spend enough time at home anymore, and when she did, she spent most of it sleeping for an hour or two between keeping the streets of Metropolis safe and returning to work at the Daily Planet the next morning. She didn't have any regrets about the way she'd chosen to live her life. She was doing good, and inspiring people – she hoped – to try and do good themselves.

But sometimes she wondered if she was missing the obvious.

When the sound of someone knocking on the door pulled her out of sleep on Saturday morning, Clark expected it to be Chloe with a new hunch she needed her 'muscle' to follow up, or Lois about to blow up in her face for missing an important meeting.

She certainly didn't expect Oliver Queen, CEO, to be standing on her doorstep.

"Oliver," she greeted, stepping out of the way so he could come in. "What brings you all the way out here this fine morning?"

The way he looked her up and down, unashamed, reminded her that she was still dressed in the old t-shirt that she'd worn to bed. "Is this a bad time?"

"When is it ever a bad time for you?" She pointed him in the direction of the kitchen. "I'll be back in a second," she told him, and true to her word reappeared just after she finished speaking fully clothed and mostly presentable. (There's only so much a girl can do with her hair on short notice.) She put the coffee on without bothering to ask if he wanted a cup; if he was still here when it was ready then they'd both probably need it. "What's on your mind, Oliver?"

He smiled. It was the same devilishly charming look he used when he wanted to get something from someone – usually a woman, if her memory served. "Can't I stop by and visit an old friend?"

She didn't even hesitate. "No."

Oliver looked amused, a sentiment she wasn't sure she shared at that moment. He threw a copy of _The Daily Star_ down on the bench, headline facing up. "You're officially famous, Clark," he told her. "Normally Star City ignores the happenings in Metropolis, but apparently the mysterious red-and-blue vigilante do-gooder breaks down the boundaries."

Clark looked up at him. "Do-gooder?"

He just shrugged. "I thought you'd like to know, before Jimmy bursts in here with the news and beats you over the head with it in his usual hyperactive manner."

She frowned at him. So she'd turned down writing the story on her own alter-ego with Jimmy. She could see where Oliver and Chloe were coming from – it would be a great cover. Right up until it was blown and then it became a liability. If she had her way, she'd still be unnoticed by the papers.

But she'd made one mistake and now she wouldn't live it down.

"Thank you, Oliver," she replied sweetly, "you've really made my day."

His smile twisted into a smirk.

Jerk.

He turned to leave, shoving his hands in the pockets of his beige suit pants. He made it look casual, but Clark was more than aware that Oliver Queen knew how to play to an audience – even an unwilling audience like herself. "Oh, and another thing," he said, turning back to face her. "There have been rumours about a Luthor Corp exchange happening just outside of Metropolis tomorrow night."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Did _Mercy_ tell you this?"

That wasn't exactly fair, but Oliver had failed to mention his previous 'relationship' with the current Luthor Corp CEO when she'd first arrived on the scene – information that would have been useful to have. And she knew that he'd tried to make amends (to what end, she had no idea) with Tess Mercer.

Oliver's lips twisted into an annoyed scowl. "Come on, Clark, it's not like that. And no, I didn't get the information from Mercy. I do have other sources," he reminded her. "We happen to share this particular source."

_Goddamnit._ "Chloe?"

"She thought Green Arrow might be interested in it."

"And you thought I might be interested in it?" She rested her hands on the table top, leaning her weight onto them. Ever since the budding Justice League had been split up, Oliver had spent too much of his time moping around Metropolis and making headlines himself. Clark had been the one trying to push him back into his suit, and Chloe had backed her up, so she could hardly fault her passing Oliver the tip. "What's the exchange?"

Oliver was smiling slyly. He already knew he'd won this one. "Not sure, but it's got some pretty heavy security, so I'd say more than just lab equipment."

Clark arrived at the meeting point ahead of time, scouting the area out before Oliver turned up. She was erring on the side of caution – Luthor Corp had been relatively quiet the last few weeks, and that had made her uneasy. Part of her hoped that whatever was being exchanged tonight was something as inconspicuous as lab equipment, but experience reminded her not to hold her breath.

She saw Oliver long before he saw her; he blended into the darkness well, though, and the sentries posted on the outskirts wouldn't see him until it was too late – if they saw him at all.

"You're late," she murmured, coming up beside him.

His only reply was a cocky smile.

She heard the sound of trucks approaching, about five minutes out, and alerted him. "Don't just stand there, Robin Hood," she told him playfully. "This is your show."

Oliver chuckled, his voice distorted by the synthesiser. "First to the finish then?"

All in all, it was over quick enough, and while not as desperate a situation as she may have come to fear, but she knew Chloe would have a coronary when she found out Luthor Corp still had a stash of meteor-affected humans in custody. Correction, _used_ to have them in custody. They'd scattered when Green Arrow broke the lock on their cell, and Clark had been too busy with the hired security to pay close attention to them.

"I got some pretty good footage," Oliver told her, taking off the glasses. "We should be able to track most of them down. It could take a while, but…" He trailed off as he plugged the chip from his glasses into the laptop. They'd gone straight from the site to Oliver's jet parked on the tarmac.

Apparently having a mobile base of operations came in handy. At least that was how he told it. It certainly cut down on prying eyes.

"You were sloppy," she told him.

He simply shrugged. "And you weren't paying attention."

"I didn't know it was a competition," she snapped, moving into his space.

Despite still being shorter than Oliver, Clark was intimidating in her own right, and she had no problem squaring with Green Arrow.

Oliver's voice was softer when he replied, "I know it's not a competition." He stepped back, turning around. "You might come close, Clark, but neither of us are perfect."

It took a moment for that to sink in. And even longer for her to form a coherent response, leading Oliver to turn around and make sure she hadn't disappeared. She'd be kidding herself if the thought hadn't crossed her mind.

"Well, well, well," he smirked. "Clark Kent, left lost for words."

She really, really hated his smirk.

"It's, uh… Most people don't call me almost perfect." Her cheeks felt a little warmer than usual, but she blamed the heating on the plane.

"They call you perfect?"

"No!" Her face flushed even more. The air was thick now, and Clark didn't know how to politely get the hell out of there. She shrank back.

Oliver reached out and let his hand rest on her forearm. "Clark." His voice drew her eyes back to his. "I'm teasing."

She nodded her head a little too emphatically. "I know. Look, Oliver-"

He cut her off, squeezing her arm a little more firmly. "I've said it before, Clark. We make a good team."

Her smile wasn't strained now. She laid a hand over his. "Yeah, we do."

She eased out of his grip, and made for the exit, throwing a smile back over her shoulder at Oliver. "See you 'round."


End file.
